Why Are the Rich So Weird? The Strange Rituals of the Ultra-Wealthy

Money has long been a force that shapes behavior, but does extreme wealth make people outright strange? From bizarre health rituals involving children’s plasma to private meditation retreats costing half a million dollars, the ultra-wealthy engage in eccentric behaviors that seem to diverge more and more from the reality most people know. While these oddities may provide some entertainment, they reflect deeper issues of power, inequality, and a dangerous disconnect from the day-to-day struggles faced by the majority.

Historical Precedents: The Gilded Age and Aristocratic Excess

The eccentricity of today's billionaires is not without precedent. In the late 19th century, during America's Gilded Age, industrialists like John D. Rockefeller, Andrew Carnegie, and J.P. Morgan amassed obscene fortunes while workers endured grueling labor conditions, living in squalor with little hope of upward mobility. These magnates were not only detached from the suffering of the working class but actively perpetuated the system of exploitation that fueled their wealth. Similarly, France’s pre-Revolutionary aristocracy indulged in lavish displays of excess, even as the country’s peasants struggled under crushing poverty. A striking example is Marie Antoinette’s Hameau de la Reine, a small, idealized rural village she had constructed on the grounds of the Palace of Versailles. There, she and her courtiers dressed as simple shepherdesses, pretending to live a life of rural simplicity, while remaining fully ensconced in the privileges of royal life. This “play-acting” was a grotesque mockery of the lives of real peasants who faced harsh conditions, hunger, and oppression. The fantasy farm reflected a disconnect from the reality that the very systems of aristocratic privilege were designed to maintain. Fast forward to today, and we see similar patterns among the ultra-wealthy. Tech moguls, for instance, have been purchasing vast swathes of farmland, not for agricultural production but to create “utopian” communities where they can live in self-sufficient enclaves, free from the issues they have a hand in creating. Additionally, the luxury survivalist retreats favored by billionaires, often boasting high-tech bunkers and doomsday prepping paraphernalia, create an artificial sense of security in the face of societal collapse. These elite retreats, while providing an illusion of control over the future, serve as yet another example of the wealthy treating the struggles of ordinary people as a form of entertainment, while contributing to the very social, economic, and environmental conditions that make such survivalism a grim necessity for the many. This performative excess, where the ruling class indulges in fantasies of escape or simplicity while actively fortifying systems of inequality, reveals a deeply entrenched disconnect between the wealthy and the realities faced by the majority.

Performative Excess: Conspicuous Consumption and Cultural Capital

Sociologist Thorstein Veblen coined the term "conspicuous consumption" to describe how the elite display their status through wasteful, performative spending. This is exactly what we see today in billionaire space races, £500,000 wellness retreats, or custom-built bunkers. These displays aren’t about necessity, they’re about power, showing the world that they can waste resources extravagantly while others struggle to meet basic needs.

The wellness industry, already a multi-billion-dollar global phenomenon, has been adopted by the wealthy not just as a tool for self-optimization but as a new avenue for signaling status. Take Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop, for example. The brand's luxury wellness products include items like £75 psychic vampire repellent sprays and £135 jade eggs, each symbolizing an almost absurd level of wealth and exclusivity. Meanwhile, Silicon Valley elites are investing in extreme practices like dopamine fasting, which involves denying oneself all pleasure in order to ‘reset’ brain chemistry. Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of "cultural capital" helps explain why this trend is particularly popular among the rich. Just as elites in past generations displayed their wealth through fine art or classical music, today’s rich flaunt their privilege through bizarre diets, anti-aging technologies, and extreme health regimens. These activities are exclusive and largely inaccessible to the masses, reinforcing the divide between the wealthy and the rest of society. The irony, of course, is that the wealthy claim to care about "self-care" while simultaneously hoarding resources that could improve the health and well-being of millions, from affordable healthcare to mental health support.

Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu’s concept of "cultural capital" helps explain why this trend is particularly popular among the rich. Just as elites in past generations displayed their wealth through fine art or classical music, today’s rich flaunt their privilege through bizarre diets, anti-aging technologies, and extreme health regimens. These activities are exclusive and largely inaccessible to the masses, reinforcing the divide between the wealthy and the rest of society. The irony, of course, is that the wealthy claim to care about "self-care" while simultaneously hoarding resources that could improve the health and well-being of millions, from affordable healthcare to mental health support.

Food as a Display of Wealth and Power

Food has long been a playground for the elite to flaunt their wealth, not for nourishment but for spectacle. In medieval Europe, aristocrats hosted lavish banquets featuring gilded meats, exotic animals, and dishes more impressive than edible. Today’s ultra-rich echo this performance with gold-leaf steaks, $1,000 sushi dinners, or hyper-restrictive wellness diets inaccessible to most. For billionaires, even food becomes an exercise in status, something to be curated, controlled, and consumed in ways that highlight their detachment from everyday realities like food insecurity and inflation. The irony is striking, while billionaires experiment with extreme diets, fasting trends, and biohacked nutrition plans to achieve so-called "optimal health," millions of people struggle to afford basic groceries. The performance of food as a symbol of power remains unchanged, only shifting from the banquet halls of medieval castles to Michelin-starred restaurants, private dining clubs, and exclusive wellness retreats.

The Myth of the "Self-Made Billionaire" and the Infantilisation of the Rich

Underlying many of these eccentricities is the toxic myth of the "self-made billionaire." Figures like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos are often framed as mavericks who "earned" their extreme wealth, but their fortunes were built on structural advantages, inheritance, elite education, tax loopholes, and systemic exploitation. Their indulgences are treated as harmless quirks rather than symptoms of a system designed to funnel wealth upward and shield them from accountability.

Despite their vast wealth and influence, many ultra-wealthy individuals seem to live in a world free from any real consequences or responsibilities. Mark Zuckerberg’s self-imposed challenge to only eat meat from animals he kills himself, or Elon Musk’s decision to name his children with bizarre, almost nonsensical names, seem to exemplify a disturbing infantilisation of billionaires. Their odd behaviors are often excused as eccentricities, rather than indicators of unchecked power and privilege. Jeff Bezos’ $42 million clock designed to last 10,000 years, an entirely impractical vanity project, fits into the same narrative: a reflection of extreme privilege where the wealthiest can afford to indulge in childish fantasies without any regard for the broader implications of their actions. These individuals are rarely held accountable for the real harm their businesses inflict, from exploitative labor practices to tax avoidance. Instead, they are treated like quirky geniuses whose bizarre antics are amusing, rather than alarming. This infantilisation allows them to escape scrutiny while continuing to amass wealth and influence with little resistance.

Moreover, the cult of genius surrounding many of these ultra-wealthy figures plays a crucial role in maintaining their status as "visionaries" or "self-made" billionaires. Figures like Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos constantly promote the narrative that their fortunes are the direct result of individual brilliance and innovation. However, this narrative conveniently ignores the exploitation of low-wage workers who perform the essential, often invisible tasks that sustain their empires. Warehouse staff, gig economy workers, and other laborers are the backbone of these billion-dollar companies, yet their work is undervalued and underpaid. By emphasizing their own genius, these tech moguls deflect attention from the systemic inequalities and exploitation that fuel their wealth and perpetuate a cultural myth that genius alone leads to success. This myth reinforces a skewed perception of meritocracy, obscuring the advantages of inherited wealth, elite education, and access to powerful networks that truly pave the way for their success. Ultimately, the "genius" narrative functions as a smokescreen, allowing billionaires to distance themselves from the structural exploitation that makes their vast fortunes possible.

These behaviors go beyond eccentricity. They speak to a deeper issue: the idea that the ultra-rich live in a bubble, free from the practicalities and responsibilities of ordinary life. While they indulge in bizarre hobbies and luxury experiments, the rest of us face the consequences of their wealth accumulation, rising housing costs, exploitative labor practices, and an environmental crisis they are unwilling to confront.

Health, Longevity & Control Over Life

One of the most glaring obsessions among the ultra-wealthy is the pursuit of immortality. A growing cohort of billionaires, including figures like Peter Thiel and Bryan Johnson, invest millions in "biohacking", a term used to describe extreme lifestyle changes and experimental treatments aimed at drastically extending their lifespans. Johnson, for example, is said to spend up to $2 million annually on a regimen that includes blood transfusions from his teenage son, all in the hope of rejuvenating his cells and defying the natural aging process. This trend becomes especially stark when contrasted with the reality faced by working-class individuals, particularly in the UK and US. In these countries, life expectancy is stagnating or even declining for many due to limited healthcare access, overwork, and economic stress. While billionaires attempt to bypass mortality itself, ordinary people are simply struggling to survive in an increasingly hostile environment. The juxtaposition is grim: the rich pour millions into the dream of living forever, while the poor face an uphill battle just to reach old age.

This trend becomes especially stark when contrasted with the reality faced by working-class individuals, particularly in the UK and US. In these countries, life expectancy is stagnating or even declining for many due to limited healthcare access, overwork, and economic stress. While billionaires attempt to bypass mortality itself, ordinary people are simply struggling to survive in an increasingly hostile environment. As Thomas Piketty and other political theorists have pointed out, the growing wealth inequality has created a "rentier class", an elite so insulated from economic pressures that they no longer share a common social reality with the rest of society. This is why, instead of contributing to universal healthcare or systems that could improve public health, the wealthy opt to pour resources into securing their own prolonged lives.

Minimalism, Survivalism & The Illusion of Escape

In recent years, the rich have romanticised minimalism, living in white-walled homes, "decluttering," and taking social media detoxes. But minimalism, for the wealthy, is an aesthetic choice, not a necessity. True minimalism is only desirable when you can buy back abundance at any time. For most people, living with less isn’t trendy; it’s a byproduct of economic hardship. The wealthy, on the other hand, can afford the space to store the belongings they choose not to display and the staff to maintain this curated image of simplicity. Not only do they have sprawling homes to house their things, but they also employ housekeepers, cleaners, and personal assistants to ensure their living spaces remain pristinely minimal. This "minimalism" is a performance, an illusion of restraint, made possible by vast resources.

At the same time, many billionaires are also deeply invested in survivalism, purchasing luxury bunkers in remote locations and planning for societal collapse. Figures like Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk have openly discussed colonizing Mars, positioning themselves not as responsible stewards of the planet but as individuals seeking an escape route. Their interest in survivalist technology, fortified compounds, and space colonization reveals a fundamental truth: billionaires do not believe in fixing society. Instead, they are investing in ways to abandon it when their own actions render it uninhabitable. The wealth to retreat from society, whether to a minimalist sanctuary or a bunker, is just another way the ultra-rich showcase their detachment from the everyday struggles of those less fortunate.

Even more alarmingly, many are investing in doomsday bunkers in remote areas, such as New Zealand, designed to withstand societal collapse. These bunkers, equipped with luxuries like underground swimming pools and stocked with decades of food, are built not as a response to climate change but as a way for the rich to “ride out” the consequences of their actions. The concept of "billionaire survivalism" has become a symbol of the deep disconnect between the ultra-wealthy and the rest of society. Instead of using their resources to address the climate crisis or societal inequality, they plan to abandon ship while leaving the majority to deal with the aftermath of their actions.

This growing trend highlights what political philosopher Slavoj Žižek has called "capitalist realism", the idea that the ruling class is more capable of imagining the end of the world than an end to capitalism itself. In this context, the wealthy are preparing for their own survival while the rest of us are left to pick up the pieces.

Techno-Feudalism and the New Aristocracy

We’re not just living under capitalism, we’re inching toward techno-feudalism. Today’s billionaires aren’t just rich; they own the digital infrastructure we depend on consolidating power in ways that echo the medieval aristocracy, not only controlling wealth but shaping entire sectors of society. Platforms like Amazon, Meta, and Google function like modern-day fiefdoms, where the ultra-wealthy act as landlords in a digital economy they control. Their eccentric behaviours echo the extravagance of historical monarchs, detached from the realities of the workers who keep their empires running. These elites are increasingly building self-contained, private cities or exclusive zones, creating isolated enclaves that allow them to escape regulatory scrutiny and circumvent the rule of law. With their massive wealth, they operate outside traditional governance, forging their own rules and systems, often in a way that undermines democratic institutions. These tech moguls and corporations are asserting more influence than governments, controlling critical infrastructure, monopolizing resources, and steering markets to further entrench their power. The rise of digital monopolies is particularly alarming, as these companies hold exclusive control over vital data, information, and technologies, dictating not only the economy but also the cultural and political landscape. The ultra-wealthy’s growing influence in sectors like healthcare, education, and security is transforming essential services into commodities, which are increasingly inaccessible to the broader population. Instead of using their vast resources to address societal issues or improve public services, they build their own exclusive systems and institutions, which intensify inequality and division. In many ways, the ultra-wealthy control access to opportunities and essential services, creating a new social hierarchy that grants them unparalleled power while leaving the majority at the mercy of their whims. This system is not just one of economic disparity but also political and cultural control, with tech moguls acting as the new aristocracy, dictating terms of participation, shaping public discourse, and ultimately undermining democratic principles. As they accumulate more wealth and influence, the gap between the elite and the rest of society widens, further entrenching a two-tier system that threatens the fabric of a fair and just society.

The Reinforcement of Social Stratification through Philanthropy

Philanthropy, particularly among the ultra-wealthy, is often hailed as a noble endeavor, rich individuals donating large sums of money to various causes, creating the appearance of benevolence and social responsibility. Figures like Bill Gates, Warren Buffett, and Mark Zuckerberg have positioned themselves as champions of global health, education, and poverty alleviation. However, this narrative of philanthropy as a form of selfless giving conceals a much more troubling reality: the reinforcement of existing social stratification and the further consolidation of power in the hands of the elite.

While these donations do provide vital funding for charities and non-governmental organizations, they also allow billionaires to maintain control over the direction and priorities of social development, often based on their personal interests or ideological preferences. This system reinforces their position at the top of the social hierarchy, creating a dependency on their whims rather than systemic change. Rather than pushing for structural reforms that could address the root causes of inequality, billionaires often direct their charitable efforts towards projects that maintain the status quo, ensuring that the wealthiest continue to hold the keys to societal advancement. In essence, their philanthropy becomes a means of consolidating power rather than addressing the broader structural issues of wealth inequality, labor exploitation, and environmental degradation.

Moreover, this model of "elite charity" creates a false sense of generosity while allowing these billionaires to avoid paying taxes that could fund public services and social welfare programs. This reliance on voluntary, private philanthropy replaces the need for democratic taxation systems, further entrenching the power of the wealthy. Public funds are diverted, and the wealthy are positioned as saviors of society rather than being held accountable for the inequalities their business practices help perpetuate. This results in the concentration of wealth and decision-making power in the hands of a few individuals, reinforcing the very social stratification they claim to alleviate.

Philanthropy thus becomes not a tool for equity, but a mechanism of social control. By choosing which causes to fund and which issues to prioritize, billionaires can shape the social landscape according to their own agendas, ensuring that their influence remains unchallenged. As such, their charitable acts serve to deepen inequality, perpetuate the power dynamics that sustain their wealth, and obscure the structural changes necessary to achieve true social justice. Instead of addressing systemic inequalities, their donations often uphold the very systems that benefit them, masking the need for a fairer distribution of resources and a more accountable distribution of power.

This reinforces the broader narrative of "techno-feudalism," where the ultra-wealthy control not just the economy, but also the philanthropic sector, steering societal development in ways that ultimately reinforce their dominance. In the process, they craft a narrative of benevolence that prevents a real examination of their role in perpetuating inequality.

The Kardashians and the Commodification of Struggle

Few cultural figures embody the commodification of struggle and identity better than the Kardashians. Their empire, built on a reality TV franchise and a vast social media presence, has transformed the notion of struggle into a lucrative business model. The Kardashians have repeatedly adopted and aestheticized aspects of marginalized cultures, particularly those of Black and working-class communities, turning elements of these identities into high-end products. From Kim Kardashian’s fashion choices to Kylie Jenner’s lip kits, the family has successfully repackaged what were once markers of cultural resistance or social adversity into mainstream symbols of wealth and aspiration. The family’s often controversial appropriation of Black beauty standards, such as larger body types, fuller lips, and braided hairstyles, has not only commercialized these traits but has done so in a way that diminishes their cultural significance, presenting them as luxury items available for purchase by anyone, regardless of their lived experiences. This is particularly evident in their beauty lines, where they frequently market products that were once staples of Black culture, turning them into high-priced, mass-produced goods that ultimately benefit the Kardashians while leaving behind the communities whose struggles they’ve commodified.

In this context, the Kardashians don't just sell products; they sell identities, struggles, and cultural aesthetics as part of a larger narrative of aspirational luxury. They have transformed what were once markers of oppression into symbols of status, suggesting that wealth doesn’t merely buy comfort or privilege, it also buys a ‘borrowed’ identity. By presenting this ‘borrowed’ identity as aspirational, the Kardashians reinforce the myth that anyone can adopt or embody these identities if they simply have enough money, positioning wealth as the ultimate tool for transformation. This mirrors the broader tendencies seen in billionaire culture, where the elite treat the world’s problems, whether cultural, social, or political, as commodities to be consumed for personal branding. Rather than engaging with or addressing systemic inequalities, these figures package struggles, cultures, and even societal issues as products to be marketed, making it seem as if the solution to these issues lies in purchasing power and spectacle rather than social change. In doing so, they contribute to a disturbing trend where empathy is monetized, and cultural struggles are reduced to status symbols, making inequality not just tolerable but profitable.

The Broader Implications: Wealth Hoarding and Societal Disconnect

At their core, the strange habits of the wealthy are not just amusing quirks; they are symptoms of a deeper issue: wealth hoarding and the complete disintegration of social solidarity. The obsession with longevity, the promotion of exclusive wellness practices, and the construction of private cities or survivalist bunkers all signal a frightening disconnect from the realities of most people's lives.

This isn't just a matter of the wealthy indulging in oddities, it's a structural problem. As billionaires hoard resources, public infrastructure crumbles. As they spend millions on biohacking, healthcare remains out of reach for millions. The ultra-wealthy aren’t just weird, they are actively contributing to a system that exacerbates inequality and entrenches their power.

What Can Be Done?

The extravagant behaviors of the wealthy should not just be a subject of ridicule, they are a reflection of a broader, systemic issue of wealth inequality. Addressing this inequality requires substantial and systemic change. Possible solutions include:

• Higher taxation on extreme wealth: Closing loopholes that allow billionaires to avoid fair contributions to public services.

• Investment in public infrastructure: Redirecting some of the accumulated wealth into healthcare, education, and social safety nets.

• Challenging corporate power: Ensuring the ultra-wealthy cannot buy their way out of accountability, whether through philanthropy or political influence.

• Reclaiming collective action: Supporting movements that prioritize workers' rights, climate justice, and economic fairness.

The eccentric rituals of the ultra-wealthy are not just curious, they are a reflection of the vast, growing chasm between them and the rest of society. The habits of wealth hoarding, social isolation, and technological escapism are not merely strange; they are symptomatic of a system that has allowed a small elite to detach themselves from the very realities that the majority of people face.

Rather than admiring or mocking their peculiarities, we should focus on the underlying issue: the obscene concentration of wealth. Because the real absurdity is not just in their bizarre behaviors, it’s in the fact that so few people control so much of the world’s resources.